For pitie pretie eies surcease

For pittie pretie eies surcease,
To giue me warre, and grant me peace,
Triumphant eies, why beare you Armes,
Against a hart that thinks no harmes.
A hart alreadie quite appalde,
A hart that yeelds, and is enthrald,
Kill Rebels prowdly that resist,
Not those that in true faith persist.
And conquered serue your Deitie,
Will you alas commaund me die?
Then die I yours, and death my crosse,
But vnto you pertains the losse.